Leaving a Legacy
by quinnarrow
Summary: Where a young hunter meets a mysterious man and is trying to figure out who he is. Bad summary, sorry. A quick one-shot from the reader's perspective.


**Leaving a Legacy**

Looking back on it, you're not really sure if what happened was coincidence; if destiny was at work when he found you in that alley, nearly unconscious covered in blood. Knowing full well not all if it was yours, you practically begged for no hospitals. It was a stupid move, but concussions make one do weird things. As darkness blanketed your vision, his deep, soothing voice reassured you would be alright. And for some reason, you believed him.

It wasn't until the next afternoon you woke up in a motel room with the man waiting. It took a few minutes but he was able to explain what happened after you'd blacked out. He offered the food sitting on the table which you gladly except. You ask question after question only getting vague answers in return.

"What happened to my wounds?"

"I healed them." – you assume he used a spell.

"Are you a witch?"

"No"

"Just a hunter then?"

"Of sorts."

"For how long?"

"A while." – you assume he was raised in this life.

"What are you doing in Kansas City?"

"I received a call." – you assume another hunter lives in the area.

Questions kept tumbling past your tongue as the man watched you eat not touching any himself. You ask him to prove he was human with holy water and a silver knife. He flinched slightly at the word but did so without complaint. You ask how he knew you were a hunter. He claims he knows of nearly all hunters, including you which makes you a bit weary since you had yet to reveal your name. When you ask for his, he's hesitant; as if dark secrets followed his very essence. He eventually utters it. The strange name seems false but again for some reason, just like in the alley, you believed him. You don't pry for the lack of a last name.

Something in the back of your mind you have a feeling you should know who he his though. Not personally, but through stories told by other hunters over the years. That feeling has never truly went away.

Eventually you discuss the shapeshifter you were hunting; how you'd tracked it through the sewers, chassed it into the alley, getting injured in the fight as it got away. He offers his assistance which you accept.

When he finally moves from his seat, a flash silver catches your eye. A simple ring occupying the fourth finger of his right hand. Again for reasons unknown, you watch the piece of jewelry until it disappear through the sleeves of his dirty jacket.

The job was easy to finish with the man around and your trust in him grew. A few months have gone by since then and he's still a mystery. Eventually most of your harbored personal questions go mute knowing the answered would be anything but enlightening even if he's polite about it. So, you mostly ask about hunts and lore which reveals his encyclopedic knowledge on just about every supernatural creature in existence. You begin keeping a journal of everything you learn from him.

On the very rare occasion he talks about a past hunt, the sadness in his voice, eyes, body language is unmistakable no matter how hard he tried to hide it. It's hard to decipher if the memories dug up were happy or not. One event he described, you can tell he's being careful with his words, is so strikingly familiar to something you've read, you can't help but wonder who he actually is. But that event you read about happened over fifty years ago; he's not old enough for that… was he? Again, something in the back of your mind screams the puzzle pieces were there, you just had to fit them together.

It's no surprise, in the end, when the man announces he must move on. To be honest, you thought he'd be long gone by now. He'd just finished packing his one duffle bag when you finally manage to gather the courage to ask about something you still haven't figured out.

"Hey Cas? What's your full name?"

He stills. You wait.

He begins rubbing the silver ring contemplating his options. You wait.

He sighs and turns to you, decision made. You wait.

"Castiel Winchester."

You're pretty sure your jaw slams to the floor, but your mind is in overdrive finally snapping all the pieces together creating an impressive picture. The logical part of you asks if he's telling the truth, but there's too much evidence to deny his claim. You grew up reading the Supernatural books knowing full well the events were true. You've practically memorized them by the time you were in high school. You've heard the stories of what happened after Dean Winchester went to Hell from other hunters. How the brothers stopped the Apocalypse. How they fought the Darkness. How they met God himself. How they drove across the country in a black 1967 Chevy Impala time and time again hunting things that lurked in the dark. Saving people they didn't even know. And hundreds of other stories that might have been exaggerated throughout the years.

And how the Angel of Thursday stayed by their side through it all.

You eye the worn jacket draped across his shoulders, the hidden amulet beneath his shirt you've seen from time to time, the silver ring.

It's all there. You kick yourself for not seeing it before. A group of older hunters you encountered last year had ended up sharing many stories one drunken night that of course included tales of the Winchester brothers. The guys were legends after all. Rumor had it their angel was still on Earth, even though Sam and Dean were long gone. Wandering about and popping up at random. Many who believe these rumors theorize the angel is responding to hunter's cries of help, prayers made in a time of desperation.

Just like you.

Cas waits while you finally rise from your shock. He barely had time to blink before all your harbored questions come spewing out. Thankfully, he's a patient person.

"What really happened to my wounds? When we first meet."

"I healed them." – you know of an angel's ability to heal.

"Are you still an angel?"

"Technically."

"But you're hunting."

"I do what I can for those in need."

"For how long?"

"Since I lost him." – you know Sam died before Dean. And the older brother and the angel ended up together in the end.

"What were you doing in Kansas City?"

"I received your call." – you know he heard a prayer you didn't even realize you made.

The next couple hours are filled with Cas's extremely sad story. Even though he's still an angel, he can never go back to Heaven. A deal he made in order for the Winchesters to finally rest. The brothers receive eternal peace in the Fields of the Lord, no angel can bother them in anyway, if Castiel is exiled. Once Dean, Cas's first and only lover, inevitably was killed, Cas dedicated his immortal life to helping hunters. To pass down knowledge and assist on hunts when needed. And that's exactly what he's been doing. Even driving the famous Impala from time to time.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask.

"Because maybe one day, when you get to Heaven, you'll see them. If you remember, you could tell them what I'm doing so they know I'm okay." He tilts he head slightly, blue eyes showing kindness, "And you're the first person to ask."

With that he stands grabbing his duffle and offering a slight smile, "Take care of yourself."

With a slight burst of wind, the angel was gone. Disappearing to help someone else in need most likely. Just like Sam. Just like Dean.

There is no doubt in your mind Castiel truly is a Winchester.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: So this is my first SPN story and I wasn't actually planning on writing anything for this fandom since I'm only halfway through the show right now. But I saw something on Pinterest and I couldn't resist (hopefully throwing a little Destiel in there was okay). Let me know what you think and thanks for reading!**

 **~quinnarrow**


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